


The Reality Effect

by Austalis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Changes in reality, Character Development, Choices, Epistemology, Existential Angst, F/M, Free Will, Government Conspiracy, M/M, Reality, Unspecified comic book/ film universe, Unstable Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austalis/pseuds/Austalis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki gains a new ally whose very presence threatens the entire Marvel Realm. Loptr turns the tables, confronting the Avengers with effective terrorism, infringements of civil liberties and a mysterious illness that sweeps the planet. As the universe is faced with the darkness of non-existence, Steve struggles to come to terms with his own free will.  </p><p>Are the Avengers able to save the world or were they just written that way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The gods were at peace. There was hunting and feasting, questing and adventuring, singing and dancing; all the components of the old stories. But there was also rest: polite conversation, gentle philosophical discussion, and lazy, sun-filled afternoons. They were weaker now, most of them, but old enough to accept it or detached enough not to mind. No-one had invoked their names for centuries, barring scholars and bards. That was why the call, when it came, was so unexpected.

Louder, and louder a select few names thundered, echoing through the realm of Asgaard. It roused Wōden from his doze and disturbed Freyja as she polished her chariot. Thór paused in his feasting and Loptr looked up from his books. Loudest of the names was his own and his brother’s. Not unprecedented, but unheard for centuries. Loptr made his way down from the tower, went in search of Thór and found him in his hall, surrounded by warriors.

“Brother!” The greeting resounded as it always had. The hall itself was full and smoky but light blazed out from three huge hearths in the centre of the room, giving the building a pleasant, welcoming aspect.

“Brother,” said Loptr, “would you come with me? To Middangeard?”

“What is there to interest us there? It has been years since we were worshipped. What need could they have of us?”

“But the call, did you not hear it? Are you not interested in what has prompted it?”

“Nay. It is probably an anomaly. Perhaps they make children learn the _Prose Edda_ again or perhaps there has been a particularly large gathering of scholars.”

Loptr didn’t push it. It had really only been a courtesy. He was curious to visit Middangeard, and he always preferred to wander alone.

 

* * *

 

Middangeard, when he arrived, was much changed. Women and men were almost indistinguishable, their fashions so different from his day. He learned about coffee, about Skillrex, and about cigarettes. He learned about cars, about planes and about hipsters. He learned about cinema, about paperback books and about Flugtag. Nothing explained the call. What had prompted it? Who were these people, speaking their names?

Finally, he learned about the internet. It truly was unprecedented. It was huge, echoing, and loud.  It _amplified_ the call, but it did not cause it. The call had to come from human voices, or else any process in the universe could accidentally sound their names.

Loptr visited the centres of learning: Alexandria, Constantinople, Rome. They were disappointing, but they pointed him to a new centre of the world. New York. It was there he found his answer.

Comics.

He scrutinised them. A whole new mythology! Some of these characters were his brethren, and yet not. Some were entirely new to him. And here, inexplicably, was himself. He devoured his stories, but quickly concluded that something was wrong. His ploys were too obvious, his motives too transparent, his moves too predictable. Something would have to be done. Luckily, this was within his power to fix.


	2. Chapter 2

Iron Man and Captain America waved from their Macey’s parade float. They were bored.

“Cap!” said Tony.

“Not now, Tony. Just keep smiling. Pretend it’s one of Pepper’s press conferences.”

“Cap, one of the Macey’s balloons is moving. In a hostile, bad-guy kinda way. Looks like this is gonna be more fun than we bargained for!” As Tony spoke, a giant teddy bear detached itself from its moorings and swooped down to grab a float. The people on it were scattered, falling like rag dolls. The bear itself chuckled a deep, growling chuckle. It slammed the float into a giant Kermit the Frog balloon which turned, making a harsh croaking noise.

Steve leapt off the float, secretly relieved by the break in the monotony of the parade, and flung his shield at the bear. It sheared through the fabric of the balloon, leaving a gaping hole, but the magics animating the bear continued to function. Around him, other balloons lurched into life and began to grapple with each other, or crashed cumbersomely into buildings. Steve stopped for a second to take stock of the situation. The crowded people were dispersing quickly, and the police and security had already turned on the balloons. Probably someone had already called the army and doubtless alerted the other Avengers. If possible, he needed to collect them and- his train of thought was interrupted as he was plucked high into the air by the bear. He beat against the giant fist, but the balloon fabric simply yielded and reformed around him. Steve slashed at it with the edge of his shield which proved just as ineffective. The bear raised him towards its mouth, its teeth looking far sharper than they had any right to be. He had a moment of shocking clarity. He was going to be eaten by a giant inflatable teddy bear. This couldn’t be happening.

The bear’s teeth began to snap closed, but suddenly shattered around him, showering him with shards of whatever the heck those teeth were made of. A huge, booming laugh filled the balloon.

Thor.

“Good Captain!” he boomed “may I lend you a hand?”  He bounced off the scaffold of the inside of the balloon, metallic noises following him as he knocked them aside with Mjolnir. “Excellent sport, is it not?”

Steve nodded his agreement and suddenly found himself in free-fall. Its structure fatally weakened, the bear began to fold in on itself while Thor rocketed past to strike at a giant Snoopy. He twisted, trying to gain purchase on the billowing fabric, and found himself caught by Iron Man.

“Cap, I’m gonna deposit you over there by the giant Pikachu, then go take out that Mr Potato Head.”

“Roger that, Iron Man. Thor, how did you get here so quickly, and are the others on their way?”

“Captain, I was already here to enjoy the spectacle! I am sure the SHIELD agents and Doctor Banner are on their way, if we do not deal with these bizarre creatures first!”

Steve shook his head, amused by Thor’s enthusiasm. “Alright, well, listen up Avengers. They seem to be animated by some kind of magic. Puncturing them doesn’t stop them, but taking apart their internal scaffold seems to work. Thor, you deal with those at the front of the parade, I’ll take the middle and, Iron Man, you take those at the back. Remember, we need to keep them from harming the civilians.”

The others sped to their positions, Thor chortling as he bounced between two giant stars. Steve quickly dismantled the large yellow mouse- presumably the Pikachu- and had begun on a giant sponge wearing a suit when Iron Man crackled in over the comms again.

“You guys, they’ve got a giant Spiderman balloon! A Spiderman balloon! What gives? They’ve never had an Iron Man balloon and I’m much more important than that pipsqueak!”

“Iron Man, will you respect radio silence and do your damn job!”

Around the corner thundered Bruce Banner, already Hulked. He flung himself at a Garfield which was clawing down a brownstone building. Right behind him drove an army truck from which Black Widow and Hawkeye promptly leapt and joined the fray. They began to shepherd the Kermit away from the few remaining civilians, keeping it at bay with arrows and bullets.

Tony buzzed around the head of the giant Spiderman, firing blasts indiscriminately into its bulk.  It caught him a lucky blow and batted him into a building. He lay stunned for a few moments, blinking at a figure standing above him.

“Puny mortal!” said the figure. “You are no match for my magic!”

“Loki!”

Tony fired one of his repulsor gauntlets, catapulting himself into Loki and tackling him off the roof.  They grappled in mid-air, exchanging blows and incendiaries until they were separated by g-forces as they crashed into the Spiderman. Loki spun off into some rubble. Tony tried to pursue him, but the Spiderman caught him and flung him into a skyscraper like a discus. He was stunned.

Unseen, another figure appeared next to Loki.

“Where do you think you’re going with this plan of yours?” he asked, harshly. His intonation was odd, certainly not English.

“I will destroy the Avengers and the rest of the world is sure to crumble.”

“Look around you, Loki. These ridiculous creatures are no match for the Avengers. If you really want to achieve your goals, you need an entirely different strategy.”

It did not even occur to Loki to ask how the stranger knew his name. Everyone knew his name.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Come with me and find out.” The stranger seized his hand and, without waiting for assent, teleported them away.  

Around the Avengers, the abominable balloons collapsed into buildings or each other. Dodging nimbly out of the way of a crashing football, Steve called the Avengers to assemble. He did a quick headcount: all were present and correct.

“Good work team. Everyone’s fine and we seem to have neutralised the threat… somehow. Let’s go help the public services clean up, and then reconvene later at the mansion.” He slowed down through his final words, looking around them with a puzzled expression. “Uh… does it seem… messier than usual to anyone else?” The team glanced about them, taking in the scattered rubble and shattered buildings. “Oh my god” said Steve, “is that woman dead?” he pointed then sprinted over. “Medic!” he screamed.

* * *

 

Loki found himself teleported to a well-appointed ice cave. The ice had been carved into tall caverns with fantastical ceilings, and tapestries hung from the walls depicting scenes from Norse mythology. A deep purple, plush carpet was spread across the floor, and all the way along a corridor. The colours were sumptuous. Royal. Loki glanced around himself and then at the tall stranger. They were similar in height and appearance, but the stranger’s features were older, smaller and his hair was functionally short. His clothing was modern, but it left the impression of historicity and he wore large smudges of kohl under his eyes. And, Loki flattered himself, the stranger was less attractive. Still, not unpleasant looking, by any means.

“Who are you?” Loki demanded, drawing himself up and fixing the stranger with a haughty glare.

“Oh get off that high horse. You know if the wind changes your face will stay like that?” said the stranger, gently and disarmingly mocking. “I am Loptr. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am here to solve all your problems.”

“You have magic, admittedly, but what could you possibly know of my problems?”

“I know you seek to destroy the Avengers. I know that you want to take over Middangeard and I know that, more than anything, you want Wōden the All-Father to be proud of you.” Loki stared at him, horrified and intrigued. Loptr bowed, half seriously, half mocking. “Please, make yourself comfortable in my palace. Let’s have a talk about how you’re going to achieve those goals.”

* * *

 

Cleaning up after the parade took much longer than expected. Every day, Steve led some of the Avengers out into Manhattan to aid the rescue workers. After three weeks, the refugees had all received adequate temporary housing, and most of the rubble had been cleared away. However, no building work could begin to repair or replace the damaged buildings until the rubble was completely removed. Thirty two people were confirmed to have died, and sixty were still in the hospital. Four people, including a three year old, were still missing.

“Hey, Captain America!” It was Dan, a rescue worker he’d got to know. “Can you help us lift this beam? If we can get it onto the truck, we should be able to clear this whole section today.” Steve moved to help them, lifting the beam without effort. He tried not to look at the open gratitude on their faces. It made him feel sick. Why had he never helped with this kind of thing before? Did he really think New York could just be put back overnight? Confronted with the destruction, it was unfathomable. And yet it had always seemed to do so, before.  

On the other side of the building, Natasha and Clint worked alongside other workers. Clint led a sniffer dog, which suddenly began to bark, leaping over a pile of broken concrete, and pawing frantically at the ground.

“Over here, quickly!” called Nat, bending down to try to help. A swarm of rescue workers gathered to safely deal with the rubble. This was the first time a dog had scented a person for days. After about half an hour- the task was delicate and the building unstable- they were able to see the person. She was middle-aged, with tired wrinkles around her eyes, faded blue eye shadow still noticeable. She could have been asleep, were it not for the gaping hole in her chest. Clint sighed.

“I’ll go and tell Cap,” he said, “I suppose it’s my turn.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Nat, “we’ll tell him together.”

Unsurprisingly, Steve was distressed by their discovery. He knew it was better to have certainty, even if it was bad news, than to hope. He’d written enough “killed in action” letters to families during the war. And yet, she was a non-combatant. She had the right to be safe in Manhattan on Thanksgiving, a right that he had fought for in the war, and a right that had been cruelly snatched away.

Towards the end of the day, the three of them walked home. It was already growing dark and had become bitterly cold, but Steve fancied the walk, and the others kept him company. As they moved down Broadway, there was a sudden rumbling noise, and a building fifty metres behind them erupted in a burst of flame and smoke. Two more buildings, thirty and forty metres away respectively, followed.  They turned and ran back towards the building, Natasha dialling the emergency services, while Clint rang SHIELD and Steve put a call through to the Avengers mansion.

Steve bounded into the nearest building, breathing in the bitter smoke, squinting against the stinging heat. He tried to fight his way up the stairs, hearing screaming above the crackle and roar of the flames, but the stairs gave way beneath him. He was pushed back to the entrance. He heard more screams, closer. In one of the side rooms two men were trapped beneath a fallen beam. He lifted the beam, grimacing as it burned him, and dragged them both to safety, into the arms of waiting paramedics.  It didn’t feel like a victory.

The Avengers helped the emergency services all night; Steve, Tony and Thor investigated the buildings, Clint and Natasha attempted to trace the source of the blast and Bruce attended victims at the hospital. The following morning, the Mayor declared a state of emergency in the city.

Exhausted, the human component of the Avengers (Steve and Thor stayed to help further) gathered around the TV to watch rolling news coverage. The newscaster was replaying footage of the aftermath of the blasts, focussing on bloodied victims and shattered buildings.

“It was horrifying,” said Bruce, “the hospital was worse than I’ve ever seen it. Full to bursting, with more and more people coming in all the time-”

The newscaster interrupted himself. “I’m now being told we’ve received some footage from a person claiming to be responsible for these heinous acts. Be warned, some viewers may find the following scenes disturbing.” His pale face was replaced with a paler one, out of focus and altogether more angular.

“Hello Manhattan,” he chuckled. He was dressed in Asgardian armour, either real or illusory, and looked both cheerful and amused. “Did you like my present? No? Would you like to know why I did it? I’ve been saying for years that I’m going to rule this pathetic planet, did you think I’d never manage it? Surely you didn’t think the Avengers could save you in the face of a real threat? I have no demands at this time. I might do after the next explosion. We’ll have to wait and see.”

The footage blurred then cut out.  
  
“We believe this to be a claim to responsibility, and it is the opinion of this news station that it might be Loki, step-brother of the Avenger, Thor.”

Nick Fury’s reaction was almost characteristic. His anger could be read in the tension in his face and neck and the crispness of his movements but he cultivated a calm exterior. He was so angry he’d transcended into a kind of cool efficiency rarely seen, even at SHIELD.

“Gentlemen and lady,” he said, “we’ve got a god-hunt on our hands.”


	3. Chapter 3

Weeks past while SHIELD searched for Loki. There were no further attacks, and people began to breathe a little easier. SHIELD dispersed the Avengers across the globe in a series of short information-gathering missions.

“I’m sending you both to England. There you’ll liaise with the British security forces, find out what they know and forge links with them. We might well need them before all this is done, so play nice,” said Nick Fury at the briefing.

“With all due, respect, sir,” said Steve, “are you sure you can spare us both? And are we the best choice? Wouldn’t, say, Bruce be more… diplomatic?”

“Hey!” said Tony, “I’m very diplomatic, I’ll have you know!”

“We’ve got our reasons. Doctor Banner will be deployed elsewhere and as the two most high profile members of the Avengers, anything less than you two would be perceived as an insult. Go there, see what they have to say and then report back. Mister Stark, you’ll need to take your armour along, just in case we require you to return at short notice. Is everything clear? Good. Be on your way.”

After a non-eventful journey, Steve and Tony were given a generic suite of five hotel rooms and then taken to an anonymous London building. A young man in a suit that might have been slept in took them up to the room in silence. The walls, when they got there, were oak panelled, the conference table likewise, with elegantly carved feet. A portrait of the Queen graced one wall opposite one of Winston Churchill.

“Tea?” asked the young man.

“No, we’re fine thanks,” said Steve smoothly.

“The commander and the secretary will be here in a few minutes.”  
  
They sat in the leather upright seats, and waited. A short, rotund, white-haired man came in.

“Good afternoon, I am Layton, Under-Secretary to the Minister. Goodness, how remiss! You haven’t been given any tea! May I pour you both a cup?”

“His _secretary?_ ” whispered Tony.

“Don’t be rude,” said Steve. “We’re fine without tea, thank you.”

The secretary stopped, mid bustle, about to pour three cups, and looked suddenly discomforted. “Right, well, jolly good. Odd time for tea, actually, now that you mention it.” He sat down, abandoning the whole process. A few, awkward moments later, the commander came in. He was so stereotypically British Tony almost believed it was an elaborate joke at their expense. He sported a large moustache which might once have been waxed into a fine curl and wore a waistcoat. Tony would have sworn he saw the chain of a pocket watch.

“Have you forgotten your manners, Layton? Why haven’t these chaps got any tea?”  He stepped up to the tea tray as he spoke, and laid out another cup.  
  
“Thank you, but we have already been offered tea and we’re fine,” said Steve, slightly desperately.  
  
“Oh,” said the commander, mid-pour. “Quite right, quite right.” He put the pot aside and sat down without a cup. Both Englishmen cast a longing glance over the tea set, before the commander introduced himself as George Silcox and suggested they get started. Only three perfunctory remarks about the weather were made. Both Englishmen considered this a personal best.

Despite the slightly ridiculous preamble, the prognosis of the meeting was grim. While the British had not, so far, been attacked by Loki, they also had no information about his whereabouts, or so they claimed. It seemed to Steve that they were somehow more evasive than they had been during the war, somehow less willing to share information.  He supposed it was to do with the complexities of modern international law, which he had not yet managed to memorise. 

“Yes, well, charming to meet you both. Sorry we weren’t able to be of greater help, what? Layton will see you out,” said Silcox as he strode smartly out of a side door.

Steve grew increasingly worried about events in New York. In England, he felt strangely isolated from them, able to observe via the news, but unable to act on them in any meaningful way. The strain of going so long since an attack, almost two months, and yet knowing another one must be coming was also something he had grown unused to.

“Steve?” said Tony, putting his head around the door and breaking in on his thoughts. “I’m going out for an insane amount of alcohol. Care to join me?”

Steve looked at the plush, anonymous hotel suite.  He couldn’t get drunk anymore, but drink sounded like an extraordinarily good idea right about now. Tony’s company sounded good too. He always seemed to make Steve feel better.

Predictably, Tony chose only the most expensive bars, and Steve was secretly relieved to be using foreign currency which allowed him to forget quite _how_ expensive everything was these days. They somehow managed to remain under the radar, without being called out as members of the Avengers. They must not be as popular in London as Nick Fury had thought.

By midnight, Tony was quite drunk and Steve felt like he’d had enough. He began to make his excuses, but to his surprise Tony agreed to return to the hotel early.

“Steve, Steve,” he said, words gently eliding, “how do you feel about all of this? Those British guys seemed… weirdly British. You know what I mean?”

“It’s just their way,” said Steve. “During the war, they always prided themselves on keeping a stiff upper lip in the face of the most extreme calamity.”

“Huh.”

A short taxi ride later, and they were back at the hotel sitting upon one of the plump sofas and Tony had sobered up a little more.

“Steve? What do you make of the Mayor’s plans to protect the city? Are they adequate? What did the Brits do against saboteurs in the war?”

Steve sighed deeply, and looked at his hands. “They did exactly what the Mayor wanted us to do. They made people carry papers and they had to show them on demand. It probably stopped large numbers of Nazi spies but… it just seems wrong somehow. The opposite of everything we were fighting for.”

“But if it stops an attack, maybe a little inconvenience to people is worth it. It’s more important that people are safe.” Tony furrowed his brow, thinking. “The world isn’t what it was in your day, Steve.”

“I know that. But I’m not even sure it makes sense. Loki’s a shape-shifter. What’s to stop him just stealing someone’s papers and impersonating them?”

“My patented retinal and hand scanners will do that just fine, thank you. And they will allow us to have a much better idea about how many people are in each district of the city at any one time, and other logistical issues. If there’s another attack, we need to know where people are.”

“But Tony, you’re talking about watching people’s every move! What happened to the land of the free?”

“Things are different now. War isn’t safely contained in a nice war zone, with clearly defined edges and participants. It’s global. There are no civilians. That’s why we have to look out for them.”

Steve thought back to the woman in the rubble. “You’re wrong Tony. But… you’ve given me a lot to think about. Thank you.”

There was a soft snore.

“Tony?” he said. Tony gently pitched forward, his head landing on Steve’s shoulder. “Tony?” he said a little more urgently. “Tony!” he said, shaking his arm. Tony opened his eyes and looked at him. For a moment, just a moment, their eyes locked. Steve felt suddenly tense.

“What? Ah, oh,” he said, blushing and seeming to wake properly “you should think yourself lucky, Steve, many ladies would kill to snuggle with me,” Tony joked to cover his embarrassment, getting up and heading to his own room. As the door closed, Steve looked down at his hands. He had a great deal to think about.

* * *

 

“Doctor Banner, we’d like you to use your network in Calcutta-”

“How-”

“Yes, Doctor Banner, we do know about that network. We’d like you to go back there and put out feelers for any underworld activity. We want to know who’s recruiting, and what they’re planning. If anyone knows anything about Loki’s location, we want that, but we also need to hear about any supervillain activity. Can you do that for us, Doctor Banner?” Nick Fury had asked. He’d made it sound so easy, reflected Bruce. It had proved to be anything but. 

In Calcutta, he’d been met with frustrating amounts of suspicion. A fixer who called himself Raj Bengali (the equivalent of naming oneself “Johnny London”) was the only one of his old contacts who would meet with him. Raj was low-down on the scale of importance, but he had a reliable, if slow, network. More importantly to Bruce, his heart was in the right place: he directed his efforts only against the well-heeled areas of the city and left the slum folk alone. Living on the wrong side of the law, it was the kind of moral stance Bruce had clung to.

The room was panelled in cheap wood, with flies buzzing in and out between the cracks. It was underground and the only light came from three bare orange light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The air was thick, almost soupy, and the atmosphere close and stifling. Though Bruce had lived in worse places over the last few years, it was far more uncomfortable than he remembered. He felt the shirt sticking to his back and the sweat creeping up his hairline, and wished that his mission didn’t preclude staying in hotels with working showers.

“Bruce! We have missed your talents here, my friend,” Raj greeted him, all effusive gestures, shiny suit fabric and oily handshakes. He called anyone he’d met more than once a friend.  Then he visibly remembered and shrank back. “Still keeping the little green problem in check?”

Bruce wearily nodded an assent.

“Good, good!” Raj brightened again and sat down at the table. “What brings you back to Kolkata, huh? I thought you were working for the Americans now.”

Bruce paused. He could either claim this wasn’t the case, that SHIELD had ditched him, or he could opt for some version of the truth.

“Well, I’m technically still working for the Americans, but they’re not interested in your dealings here- no wait!”  Raj made to leave so Bruce pushed a brown envelope of notes across the table. Raj considered, wrinkling his nose in a fussy, prissy kind of way.

“Money is so mercenary Bruce. I’m disappointed in you. But perhaps we can have a deal. I’ll get you some information, and information only, mind, no guns, no drugs, and you can come and help me out with a problem, yes? Do not look so downcast, I’m not asking you to commit a crime. There’s a sickness in the slums, and we cannot make head or tail of it. But first, tell me what you need to know.”

“We’re primarily interested in anything you know about Loki, or his whereabouts. We’re also interested in anything you can tell us about any supervillain activity, recently. Is anyone recruiting? If so, what kind of people? What sort of a job are they looking to do?”

“Bruce, Bruce, you ask too much. I’ll have to have my little favour _and_ that money.  For expenses, you know.” Raj swept the envelope off the table and tucked it into his jacket in a practiced movement. “I’ll need a few days, but I’ll see what I can do. Tomorrow I will take you to the slums.”

The slum was foul. Temporary structures made of corrugated iron, scrap chipboard and plastic leaned on each other. Rubbish blew gently around their feet and the stench of raw sewage was almost overpowering. Raj stopped outside one shack, identical in all its essentials, and greeted a little girl squatting outside.

“Hello, Agrata,” he said, followed by a string of quick instructions in Bengali. The little girl, no more than ten or twelve, led them inside. The floor was beaten earth and the walls made or sheet metal, but there were cushions and draped fabric over parts of the walls. Despite the hot day, a small kettle bubbled over a brazier in the corner, attended by a small Indian woman. A man sat on the floor dextrously mending a pair of shoes. Agrata indicated for them to wait.

“They look fine so where’s the patient?” said Bruce, but Raj hushed him.

“Just watch.”

The woman turned to the man, said something to him in a quick flutter of syllables. She poured a cup from the kettle and placed it next to the man. They had a brief exchange- the language sounded to Bruce like it might be a different dialect from that spoken by Raj and Agrata- and then the woman returned to her place. Bruce started forward but again, Raj prevented him.

“Keep watching.”

There were two minutes of silence while the woman tended the fire and the man plied his needle. Then she looked up, turned to the man and uttered the same string of words. She gave him a fresh cup of tea, though the original was untouched. The cycle repeated itself twice more before Bruce spoke quietly:

“What are they saying?”

“She offers him a cup of tea, and asks how long the shoes will take. He says they will be finished by this afternoon and that then he will go to scavenge some more.”

“Every time?”

“Every time.”

“What happens if someone speaks to them?”

“Why not try it? They seem to react like ordinary people.”

“Uh, excuse me?” Bruce raised his voice, attracting their attention for the first time. The woman leapt up, and began welcoming them. She motioned to pour them some tea as Bruce protested and apologised for invading their home. Using Raj as a translator, he made some basic enquiries. Their story was common: they had come here from a dying village intending to make a life for themselves, but things had not been easy. Bemused permission easily given, Bruce examined their eyes, mouths and ears. He listened to their pulses and their lungs. All seemed well, though the man might have the earliest signs of a respiratory condition and the woman was obviously undernourished. It was clear they had no idea about their own disturbing, cyclical behaviour.

As they left Raj turned to him.

“What could it be, Doctor?”

“It might be a kind of hysterical reaction to the distress of their situation, I suppose,” said Bruce, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Or perhaps a neurotoxin of some kind. I can’t imagine the water supply is any good here. And the chemicals he’ll come into contact with as a tanner aren’t much better. Are there any other cases?”

“Doctor, we’ve been seeing these symptoms all over Kolkata. There is, as far as we can tell, no single affected area. It just started happening one day, and slowly it is happening to more and more people.”

“Okay. They seemed physically pretty healthy, but if you can get me some sterile medical tools, and people willing to supply their blood, I’ll take them back with me and run some tests. But I don’t know that I’ll find anything. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

* * *

 

 “Clint, Natasha, you’ve done good work with the surveillance teams. But unfortunately, conventional phone tapping just isn’t hacking it this time. We need to be able to cast a wider net, nip any vigilantism or radicalisation in the bud,” said Fury.

“What kind of thing were you thinking, sir?” asked Clint, all business.

“We need to be able to monitor internet traffic as it happens. It’s no good just getting reports on flagged words from the providers. We need direct access.”

“You’d like us to tap the internet?” said Natasha, incredulously raising one perfect eyebrow. She was the only person who dared to give that look to the Director.

“Not quite. I want you to go talk to a group of internet service providers. You need to convince them to let us have live access to all the traffic passing through their servers when we need it.”

“That’s gonna be a bit of a hard sell,” said Clint.

“You two can handle it.”

“When do we meet them?”

“Tomorrow.”

The meeting was in the SHIELD headquarters building. It was important to impress the businessmen. Upstairs, Clint and Natasha were getting dressed.

“I hate suits,” said Clint, shrugging into a blazer, “I mean, I can’t even get my arms above shoulder height. What am I gonna do if we suddenly get scrambled?”

“Oh hush. You think wearing this pencil skirt is pleasant? I can’t roundhouse kick in this. This is nearly as bad as the time I had to be Stark’s PA. How do I look?” She placed a pair of clear glass spectacles on her nose, and dabbed off excess lipstick.

“You look gorgeous,” said Clint.

“Not so bad yourself,” she said. “I get to be bad cop, right?”

“Uh, actually I thought it might be better if I were bad cop.”

Natasha glared at him. “Are you saying I’m not scary?”

“No, no. Nat, believe me you are very scary. Remember Budapest? I was half convinced you were gonna kill me too, but… we’re going to be meeting a bunch of stiff corporate guys. They’re gonna look at you, and see nothing more than a sexy lady. If I scare them, and you coddle them, they’ll be putty in our Director-Fury-controlled hands.”

Natasha frowned. “You are going to owe me so much when this is over.”

“ _That’s_ the Natasha I know and love!”

The meeting room was long, one wall entirely glass window, the other with small observational windows off into the corridor. A long smart conference table ran the entire length with fifteen chairs down each side. Twelve sat towards one end. They were men wearing suits with the ease of long practice. The resulting atmosphere was one of conspiratorial importance: these people were the elite, the only ones invited to the meeting. Clint and Nat waited until they were all settled then entered through a different door.

“Gentlemen,” said Natasha. “Thank you for joining us. Your cooperation is much appreciated. Now, as I’m sure you’re all aware, at SHIELD we’ve been trying to capture and neutralise the threat that is Loki. It’s an exhausting and time-consuming task, and you are all in a position to aid us.”

“Well, anything to protect American citizens!” said one of the suits, the Director of Privacy of the third largest company.

“Thank you. What we need is complete access to all traffic through your servers.”

Predictably, this was met with gasps and shouts of outrage.

“You’ve got to be joking! This is in no way legal! We won’t do it,” said the CEO of the largest company. “We offer our customers complete privacy, and our reputation is very important to us.”

“Will it be as important when New York is a smoking crater?” Clint spoke for the first time with startling intensity.

“New York is not about to become a crater… is it?”

“It could be. If Loki wants it to be,” said Clint shortly.

“Let’s all stay calm,” said Natasha smoothly. “Loki is not going to destroy New York. Not if you do what we ask.”

“But what you ask is a complete violation of everything this country stands for!” chipped in a third, not important enough for Natasha to have learned his name.

“I think we should do it!” said the Director of Privacy. “I want to be able to say I played my part, like my granddaddy did in the war. It’s not as glamorous, but it’s just as important. Tell me where to sign.”

“Thank you,” said Natasha, proffering a paper. “Anyone else?”

With someone willing to go first, another seven men signed their names, their reluctance adequately displayed.

“What are you doing?” demanded the CEO. “This is not the American way!”

“When Loki’s made himself King of the World, will it still be the American way?” snarled Clint. “Maybe you can’t see it, but our enemy is without morals. If we’re not prepared to match him, the only thing we’ll have left is the moral high ground!” 

“I’ll sign,” said one man quietly. He made his signature then slipped immediately out of the room.

“Those of you who’ve already signed, thank you. You may leave. Our engineers will be in touch shortly.”

The last three looked defiant. Clint turned his steely gaze on them.  
  
“I hope your morals will be worth it. Or is Loki’s triumph what you secretly want? Is he paying you, is that it?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then prove it,” said Natasha. “Sign.”

“Or would you like to be placed on a watch list yourself? I mean, I think this reluctance is some pretty good evidence for un-American activities, wouldn’t you say? Or should I get a warrant?”

“Alright, alright,” the CEO held up his hands. “I’ll do it. But I want it on record that I’m not happy about this. Not happy at all.”

The CEO’s resistance broken, the other two looked at each other and reached for the paper, each keen not to be the last to sign. Sombre, they hurried from the room.

“Well,” said Clint, leaning back. “That wasn’t too bad. I could almost get used to this business meeting thing.”

“You always get to have all the fun,” sniffed Natasha. “And you owe me for being nice to those assholes.”

* * *

 

With no further attacks, and New York under close observation, Nick Fury wondered, briefly, if SHIELD had gone too far. The explosive destruction of the Chrysler building put paid to those doubts.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Loki spoke urgently into the telephone, voice quiet but intense.

“No, I require it now. I have hired you do a job and you will see that it is done. Or do I have to remind you that I am well aware of your daughter’s schedules? And your husband’s? Exactly. I will speak with you again in one hour and I expect to have better news.”

He hung up and turned to Loptr. “Honestly, humans have so little imagination, and yet such arrogance. Each one thinks to outsmart me with naught but an obvious ploy.”

Loptr ran a single finger down the size of Loki’s face.

“And you, my supervillain, will outwit them all.”

“She will bring me the information I need about the SHIELD safehouse and the Darkhold. She has too much to lose if she does not.”

* * *

 

Fury recalled the Avengers immediately, but the damage was already done. Once they were back American soil, he called a crisis meeting.

“Gentlemen and lady, as you all know Loki has struck again with renewed energy and force.  He has been upgraded to the most severe threat this country faces.  The Mayor has permission from the federal government to instigate check points throughout the city.”

“Well, hey, isn’t that a little bit totalitarian?” asked Steve.

“In the opinion of SHIELD it is not. Now, we need reports back on your missions. Agents Barton, Romanov, you go first.”

“As requested, we spoke to the company leaders and they’re agreed to let us have real time access to their servers. Whenever we need it.”

Bruce looked up in astonishment and Tony let out a low whistle.

“How did you manage that?”

“Excuse me, I am unfamiliar with Midgardian technology. Why do we need real time access to servants? Aren’t JARVIS and the cleaning company enough?” said Thor. He had been retained in New York as the hero able to overpower Loki by himself.

“You’ve been briefed on the internet? And you, Captain Rogers?” Both nodded their assent. “Well then, all the traffic on the internet has to pass through a server owned by an internet service provider. We’ve convinced the providers to let us view anything we need to, whenever we need to see it.”

“But that’s like opening people’s mail! It’s monstrous! Do people know? They have to know!”

“Captain Rogers! They don’t know and nobody is going to tell them. Now you didn’t live through the Cold War so I’ll forgive that you don’t quite understand the threat that we’re facing, but I order you to sit down and shut up about it. Thank you, Barton, Romanov. Mister Stark, why not tell us about your trip to England?”

“Same old England. The British don’t have any better ideas about Loki’s location. The whole thing was a bit of a bust if you ask me.”

“Rogers, do you concur?”

“Uh, yes.  But they’ve promised to keep us informed, though I suppose we don’t need that now, if we’re reading people’s mail,” said Steve, shortly. 

 “Yes, _thank you_ , Captain Rogers. Doctor Banner, what did you find in Calcutta?”

“Well, there are only small rumblings in the underground, same as always. If anyone knew about Loki, they weren’t telling. There was some suggestion that people were being recruited for a theft, but it’s impossible to know if they’re linked with Loki or not. And, since so far he hasn’t stolen anything that we know of, it seems likely that it’s not him.”

“Alright. We haven’t had much luck at our end, but that should turn around with our internet surveillance.  However, we need to be taking a much more active role in policing the city. I want frequent public appearances and patrols. People need to know we’re looking out for them. We’ll also need all of you to stay in New York for the foreseeable future. Rogers, you’ll be giving a press conference in a few days. The tone needs to be reassuring but firm. Can you do that? Good.  Now, we’ve had another problem drawn to our attention. It seems mystical in nature, so perhaps Thor, you’ll be able to shed some light?”

“Well, I am not what anyone would call a scholar, but I will do my best. What is the problem?”

“It seems like something of a sickness, or a curse. We’ve heard that some people living in the suburbs have started acting strangely.”

“Strange, how?” asked Bruce. “Strange, like, acting out some social ritual over and over?”

“Are you familiar with it, Doctor?”

“I saw it in Calcutta. I got some blood samples which I’ve been running in my lab, but they’re clean. It’s strange to find it here though. They return to normal when spoken to?”

“I believe so. Thor, does any of this sound familiar?”

“I am afraid not. But I could return to Asgard and speak with our historians?”

“We need you here, Thor. Our scientists will look into it. Banner, can you come and brief Reed and some SHIELD lab techs on what you know. Stark, you can go out to the suburbs and talk to a few people, and brief us on what you find.”

* * *

 

 

Tony had never been in this part of town before. It looked about as much like suburbia as it was possible for a place to look, all sprawling houses in pastel colours, perfectly manicured lawns and white picket fences. He tried to avoid anything which looked quite so much like the American dream. There were few people about, though it was a pleasant enough winter day, but those few went about seemingly without cares. They did not seem to see the roadblocks that separated this district from the next, just blithely stood in line, discussing schools, sports or petty politics while waiting for their papers to be checked. He, too, took his place in line, listening carefully to their conversations. 

“Well, I said to him that he was gonna have to be a darned sight politer to me if he wanted to keep my custom!”

“I heard he’s a shoo-in for Mayor next election time and good thing too. This town needs a proper guiding hand, and superheroes can’t be expected to run everything.”

“Johnny’s doing so well at school lately. You know he’s been picked to run track with the seniors? We’re just so proud.  And little Lois has decided to try out for cheerleading.”

The woman in front of him talked animatedly about her children to her companion who echoed her sentiments. The only difference was in the names of the children. Both women were middle aged, and wearing very similar dresses, one blue gingham, one red. They seemed unaffected by the cold. This was as good a place to start as any.

“Excuse me, ladies, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I’m Tony Stark. From the Avengers Initiative?”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Tony Stark! I’ve seen the Avengers on TV! I love you guys!” her face took on a violent enthusiasm, and each of her statements was strangely detached, intonated as though unconnected.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. Can you tell me a little bit about your kids?”

The other lady’s face had glazed over slightly, but she too adopted a rictal grin. “Oh, we’re just so proud of Brad. He’s been picked to run for the track team! And little Brittney is going to try out for cheerleading. Isn’t that exciting?”

Tony turned back to the first lady who had already begun her spiel: “Our little Lois is trying out for cheer, isn’t that exciting? And Johnny’s been picked for the track team. We’re very proud.”

Tony felt a shiver of disquiet prickle along his arms. The similarity between the two statements was unsettling. “What ages are your children?”

Both women blinked blankly at him, then started up together.

“Brad’s been picked for track…”

“Lois has decided to try out for cheer…”

Tony gently extracted himself from the conversation and handed over his papers.

“You’re Tony Stark!” said the sentry, “I’ve seen you on TV! I love the Avengers!”

Tony mumbled his thanks and quickly moved away.

All the other people he spoke to were the same. They told him how much they loved the Avengers, and then they seemed to revert to one conversation topic from which they could not deviate. Two businessmen discussed their company’s merger with him and an old man told him that things used to be very different before there were superheroes. It was… unsettling. The problem affected both residents and workers equally (a grocery store owner gave him a potted history of the store) but aside from restricting conversation and behaviour, the disease did not seem harmful. Certainly, those people he spoke to were not distressed, or even aware of their shortcomings. Tony felt a cold sweat on his neck by the time he returned to the Avengers Mansion. Things were far worse than reports had suggested.

* * *

 

The press conference was in one of SHIELD’s press rooms. Steve was in his old military uniform as Fury had felt it would give him an appropriate air of severity and gravitas. He tried not to be nervous. He’d done public relations events for SHIELD before and had done loads back in the war, but he’d never had to lie before. It was possible he wouldn’t now, if the right questions weren’t asked. 

Steve read a short statement, the gist of which was that Loki was being treated as a very serious threat and the Avengers would be on site at all times and working round the clock to stop him. He took questions.

“Where were the Avengers when the previous attack happened?” asked the journalist from the Daily Herald.

“We were deployed on a series of missions designed to increase our knowledge of Loki, but it is the belief of SHIELD that, had we been here, we would not have been able to predict, and so prevent this regrettable attack.”

“What does Loki want?” a reporter from the Daily Bugle asked.

“It is our belief that he wants world domination, but obviously this is an unachievable goal.”

“Exactly what measures have you taken?” she continued. When it came to it, Steve found it surprisingly easy to dodge the question. He tried not to hate himself for it.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m sure you can see that they would be rendered obsolete if I were to tell you about them.”

Tony slipped into the back of the room, casting his eyes across the rabble of journalists. He gestured at Fury to indicate that he needed to speak with the team, dodged two journalists who tried to ask him questions and escaped through a side door controlled by swipe pad.

Steve fielded the last few questions as quickly as he could and then retired with the other SHIELD staff to the briefing room.

* * *

 

“What were they like?” asked Steve worriedly, fingers steepled in front of him. The whole team was gathered together in a SHIELD briefing room with Fury, Reed Richards and some SHIELD scientists. 

“As Bruce said, they were cyclical. But these people couldn’t hold a conversation. It was like… did you ever play video games in the ‘90s? Obviously, not you Steve.” There were a few nods around the table, so he continued “It’s as if they’ve just got some stock phrases. Once exhausted, they just repeat themselves.”

“Maybe they’re getting worse?” suggested Bruce, fiddling with his glasses. “We could see if we can get samples from some of these people and compare them with my samples from India. I haven’t been able to find anything so far, but maybe a comparison will throw up some things.”

“If we’re getting samples, can you just get me a person?” asked Richards. 

“Excuse me?” asked Steve.

“Well, look, I mean, everyone has said they’re not aware of their condition, but it sounds to me like they’re not aware very much at all. It won’t be difficult to bring one in for me.”

“But, Richards, what do you want to do? No-one’s gonna consent to being observed for more than forty eight hours or so,” said Bruce.

“From what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound like they can consent. But if, as you say, they just repeat the same cycles of behaviour, why would it matter to them?”

“Doctor Richards, do you think having a live test subject would allow you to better understand this disease?” asked Fury.

“Unquestionably.”

“Then we’ll get you one. Captain Rogers, Mister Stark, you will arrange it.”

“I will not!” said Steve. “I won’t kidnap Americans for you to experiment on them!”

“They won’t come to any harm,” said Richards, evenly, “they’ll be under constant medical surveillance. Probably they’ll be better looked after than any others with this same disease. And, of course, they won’t have to pay medical bills. There are many who would jump at the chance, if only they could.”

“That’s an order, Captain,” said Fury, closing the discussion.

Steve immediately left the room, pointedly not speaking to anyone. Tony followed him.

“Hey Steve, look, if you don’t want any part in this, I’m sure I can manage it with Nat and Clint.”

“Thank you Tony, but, I can’t ignore a direct order, however much I would like to. Just… how did it all get so ugly?”

* * *

 

Loptr sat cross legged on the carpet, perfectly comfortable, while Loki paced excitedly back and forth. This part of the ice cave had been transformed: it was an office, a computer lab and a radio room. Like all the others it was carpeted in deep purple. Hunting scenes adorned the walls and ceiling. 

“What do you plan to do next?” said Loptr, lightly.

“I’ve shown the world that I’m serious. They fear me. Now I’m planning to acquire some of this world’s more powerful artefacts. Then I’ll start making demands. That’s the logical progression, don’t you think?” replied Loki, aiming for lightness but not really able to obscure an underlying edge of desperation. Loptr could interpret it without any difficulty: Loki was desperate for approval from anyone whose opinion he thought worthwhile.

“Liebling, it is the most logical thing in the world.”

“So it’s acceptable to you?” Loki stepped closer, peering at him in earnest. Loptr wrapped a hand around his ankle and tugged him to the floor.

“Keep this up, and you shall have everything you desire.”

* * *

 

Steve lay awake, conflicted. He ran moral dilemmas around and around in his head, unable to decide on the worst evil. Should he bring Reed an old man, whose life was mostly lived out? Surely that was better than taking a young man, or a child? But was it right to judge life quantitatively? Was the quality not worth taking into account? In which case, should he choose someone wretched, that they were not leaving much behind, or someone happy, as they had had their fair share of happiness? Who on earth was he to judge such a thing? Was consent a consideration? Tony and Reed had suggested that they could not, that they were too far gone, but what if that were just appearances? He shifted, flipping his pillow over and laying his cheek on the cool fabric. It was too difficult to solve alone. Sleep was obviously out of the question. 

In the morning, Tony briefed Clint and Natasha in Steve’s absence.

“You two have the most experience in any kind of covert work, so Steve’ll be looking to you for advice. He’s not entirely happy about being selected for this, but he’s a soldier, he’ll go through with it. Guys, he needs our support in this.”

Clint nodded, and Natasha spoke, her eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“He’s okay with it, really? I would’ve thought the Cap’d be entirely against kidnapping people, even for the common good. He’s too idealistic.”

“I’m idealistic, but I’m not naïve,” said Steve, heavily. The others craned around guiltily to look at him and Natasha merely returned his gaze. There was no apology on her face. “I’m sorry I’m late. But, Fury and Richards say this will help the American people, and I’m willing to trust them.”

The van they were assigned was white and anonymous. Tony drove while the others crouched in the back. They were silent as they moved quickly through the city, passing closed subway stations and queuing at check points. When they made it to the suburbs, Steve said, quietly:

“Clint, Nat, I need you two to speak to people. If possible, we need someone who will agree to come with us willingly. I will speak to people separately. If you find someone, radio it in to Tony and he’ll come and get you. If neither of us can get someone, we’ll regroup and consider what to do next.”

They left the van. Natasha reflected on the mission. She knew that she, far more than most of the Avengers, understood that the end truly justified the means, if that end was the protection of the world. She was pragmatic, practical, but that didn’t mean she was unfeeling. Being asked to kidnap someone for the state rankled: it was too close to the Soviet system she’d grown up under. Of course, Tony would take steps to protect Steve from the realities of what they did, but he’d assume she and Clint had no qualms at all.

Steve walked around the corner and found himself in a kind of American dreamland. It was January, and freezing, but men were outside mowing lawns, and chatting over fences. Windows were open and pies cooled on window sills. Steve found the disconnect shocking. He had never seen anything quite like it.

“Excuse me, sir,” he stopped a man who was fixing an already immaculate fence at the front of his house, “my name is Steve Rogers and I’m-”

“Steve Rogers! You mean you’re Captain America? That’s fantastic, I love you guys!”

“Right, yes, but-”

“Captain America!” cried the man on the next lawn, hurrying over. Steve flustered, but tried to continue.

“I need to ask you if you would be willing to provide a great service to the country.”

The neither man was listening to him. Both called for wives, children, neighbours to come and see the celebrity on their property.

“We need someone to take some routine testing, lasting perhaps a week. You would need to stay in for observation, but we would see your family looked after, and you yourself would receive the best medical attention,” Steve desperately rushed the words out. Of the small crowd that was gathering, no-one heard him. All clamoured to touch him, a tap on the arm or torso, to prove themselves, to feel one moment of vicarious celebrity. It was hopeless, maddening and terrifying. He struggled to extricate himself without harming them. It took a few short minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.

He made his way back towards the van, shaking his head. He was going to have to kidnap one of these poor, sick people. People who would have no idea what has happening to them, but they would know who was doing it to them. They knew him, and they would know his actions.

“Captain!” It was Nat, hurrying towards him. “Captain, we’ve found someone willing to accompany us.” Steve tried not to think about the sickening feeling of relief he felt in his stomach. “She’s a big fan, of course they all are, but she seems lucid enough to want to come with us.”

“What’s her name?”

“Debra Whitman.”

When they introduced her to Steve, she greeted him the same way as all the others. He looked at Nat, started to ask what she had meant, but then she said:

“I’ll help the Avengers, anything to help Peter. Do you know where Peter is? I’m very worried about him.”

“You call this lucid?” asked Steve.

“It’s as close as we’ll get,” replied Nat.

* * *

 

Richards had been thrilled with a test subject, and Bruce had been drawn in despite himself. He spent most of his days working with the SHIELD doctors and scientists, trying to discern even a cause, let alone a cure. After two weeks Richards had got a sly look on his face, and began muttering about extra dimensions. He shut Bruce and all of SHIELD out of his lab, saw only Sue Storm and refused to communicate any of his data. Bruce and SHIELD kept working. 

In the meantime, the affliction had spread. Few questioned the roadblocks, check points or privacy infringements. There was no need. The papers were always perfect, the sentries operated like automata. Only in Manhattan and among the superheroes were there any people left with lucidity. SHIELD had grown increasingly desperate. Their attempts at finding allies abroad had failed as the mysterious sickness enveloped whole countries. Every day, there were fewer lucid humans.

Steve spent more and more of his time patrolling the city. Sometimes he was accompanied by other Avengers, sometimes he was alone. Tonight, he wandered among the happy crowds exiting the Broadway theatres. He was grateful they didn’t notice him, particularly when his communicator went off.

“Captain, we need you to suit up and get to the SHIELD safe house number 23, as quick as you can. We’ve got a suspected Loki sighting!”

 He dropped the phone, turned on his heel and ran.

Loki sneered contemptuously at the crumpled SHIELD agents.

“Would you really leave such a precious artefact so unguarded? Had I known, I would have taken it long ago.” He turned to leave, stepping over the body of a dead agent. He clambered over the rubble, reaching the surface and walking out onto the street, right into the path of Captain America. Steve sprang at him, knocking him sideways with his shield. Loki bounded up again, one arm raised as he uttered a spell, the other holding out a battered tome from which he read. Steve found himself raised high into the air and blasted back against a building.

Iron Man arrived with Thor. Thor leapt at Loki, who dissipated into an illusion and then struck him across the face. Tony blasted him, but missed, taking out a building support. Stray civilians ran about near the scene, screaming. Steve flung his shield at Loki. He disappeared in a wisp of smoke and a mocking smirk, teleported away to safety. The shield continued in its trajectory, striking a woman who cowered in the rubble. She was thrown backwards in a spray of blood, her screaming cut short. 

Steve stared after her in disbelief. She was an innocent. Surely he could not have-

“Is she..?” he could hardly ask. Tony went over to check. He stripped his iron gauntlet from his hand and felt for a pulse. Silently, he shook his head.

* * *

 

Hours later, Steve felt numb. He’d collected his shield, trying hard not to look at it, and forced himself to look at the body. This woman, whoever she was, he had killed her and the very least he owed her was to look at his own handiwork. 

Back at the Avengers mansion he’d peeled off his uniform and showered for what felt like an age. Eventually JARVIS spoke up to ask if he were okay, so he got out and sat in his room, staring at his hands.

Tony stuck his head around the door.

“Uh, Steve, JARVIS has made you some tea, he said you liked it, but we thought it would be better if it were delivered in person. Uh, Steve? You don’t look so good.” Tony came in slowly, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Steve turned a tear streaked face to him. Tony thrust the tea forward as an offering.

“Oh, thanks Tony. I’m sorry, I just- It’s just- I killed her. She was alive, and a civilian and she probably never harmed a soul. She just went out this morning and now she’ll never go home. I did that.” There was a half sob, and, panicked, Tony placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Look, these things happen sometimes. And they’re sad, and bad, and awful, but we can’t beat ourselves up about it.”

“I killed someone, Tony. Someone who wasn’t trying to kill me, or my team, or destroy our country. A bystander. A civilian. How am I supposed to deal with that?” Steve descended into sobs and Tony found himself sitting next to him on the bed, hand still gently patting his shoulder.

“Shhhh,” he mumbled, ineffectively. “What you need is a drink. Or, or a girl or something.” Tony remembered only after the words were out of his mouth that Steve couldn’t drink. “Look, at least drink your tea. JARVIS says it makes British people happier, and you’re from the ‘40s so that makes you practically British, right?”

Steve tried to laugh. It sounded strangled.

“Look, why don’t we go out, get a little company, there must be somewhere left with normal people-”

“No! No, Tony, don’t you see, I can’t be near ordinary people. I might kill them too.”

“Hey, hey, talk like that will get you nowhere! This wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. You have to hang on to that. It’s what separates us from them.”

“We’re separated by luck?”

“By intention.”

Steve seemed to be done talking, so Tony got up to leave. Steve seized his wrist.

“No, Tony. Please, stay?”

“Okay.” Tony sat back down, let Steve cry quietly into his shoulder. “Alright, look, I’m sensing we’re gonna be here for a while, so let’s at least be comfortable about it. Just, lie down, and I’ll stay until you’ve gone to sleep.” Steve paused then acquiesced, curling up on his side. Tony sat by him, hand warm on his shoulder and waited. 

“How did it all get so bleak?” said Steve.

Tony didn’t know. He scooted down and cuddled up behind Steve. Steve had always been there, as sure and as solid a team leader as he was now in Tony’s arms. Captain America was _the_ American Hero. He was the very best of all of them, and Steve was human, able to laugh, able to grieve. It was now, at his lowest ebb, that Tony’s affection for him was fiercest.  Tony had always dealt with the darkness- alcoholism, his father, the palladium poisoning- but Steve was somehow removed from all that. Even waking up in the future hadn’t seemed to faze him all that much. It seemed Steve was finally having to confront the darker side of being a hero. More than anything, Tony wished he wasn’t. Burdened with these cares, Steve was fragile and Tony felt a fierce longing to protect him.

Left to his own devices, Steve woke slowly. War had trained him otherwise but in the absence of an alarm or siren he was a deep and heavy sleeper. He was conscious first of a general sense of well-being and of safety. Then, of the warm arm draped over his torso clothed and platonic, and the face at the back of his neck. It tickled with stubble when he moved.  Tony. That was who was with him. Tony who had stayed, usually caustic but ultimately sympathetic and understanding. Gently, Steve edged himself slightly closer, relishing the heat of another body. The heat seemed to spread through him, languidly pooling in his groin. It would be so easy to roll over, roll Tony onto his back, kiss him awake and then- That was new. That was entirely new.  The new-ness shocked him into wakefulness and then he remembered. The warm feeling in his stomach curdled, turned sickening. He felt a hot flush of shame, regret and guilt spread through his veins like an oil slick. That woman would never go home and here he was, alive and well. He turned himself over, pressed his face into Tony’s neck and allowed the tears to leak onto skin.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki had the Darkhold, the most powerful dark grimoire in the universe and he intended to use it.  He contacted the Chinese government, NATO and the EU, issuing a threat and an ultimatum. Either they would ally themselves with him against the Avengers or he would destroy their capitals and leave their people to starve. Loptr agreed that it struck the right note.  First, he waited confidently, reading the grimoire and delighting in the more obscure and arcane magics. Then, growing worried, he paced about the cave, angrily recutting some of the carvings into faces, screaming, begging in supplication.

“Very artistic,” said Loptr, draping an arm over Loki’s shoulders. “But not, I think, going to fix your problem. Why not visit them, impress them with a few pretty tricks, hmm? But nothing too much. You need them alive and pliant, not cold and stiff.”

“Of course,” said Loki, attempting unsuccessfully to sound dismissive, “that is just what I intended to do.”

Loptr took hold of Loki’s earlobe between first and middle finger, ran a thumb along the underside of his jaw.

“Of course.”

In China, Loki found only automaton beings. The people in the streets ignored him, even when he spoke to them. In government buildings he created fantastic illusions, a cloak of darkness for himself, an impressive, god-like suit of armour. Each time, the people spotted him, cowered briefly in supplication then seemed to forget him, and went back to their jobs. More illusions made them notice him again but the same things happened.

Enraged, Loki moved across Asia, spelling people into oblivion when they did not respond to him. Loptr followed, guiding him to Constantinople and Rome. He had never seen an illness like it, though it was intriguing. He had no fear for his own health, of course, but he found something deeply amusing in their repetitive behaviour. He spent four days with a family in Alexandria, tidying a spotless house again and again. It was almost soothing. He returned to Loki soon enough, but occasionally repeated his actions around the ice cave, to Loki’s extreme distress.

* * *

 

Richards emerged from his lab for the first time in days. Debra Whitman had long succumbed entirely to the sickness. She asked constantly after a boy called Peter, but by the time Bruce could reassure her that Peter- whoever or wherever he was- was fine, she reset, and piped up again. Her worry for Peter clearly distressed her, and he wished he could take her back to him, even if it would make no improvement in her condition. 

“Banner, get me Fury and call me a town meeting!” called Richards, “I’ve made the greatest discovery of my career!”

Fury took him at his word, and summoned all the heroes and agents he could get his hands on, packing them into the largest of SHIELD’s auditoriums. He had Natasha and Clint secure Richards as security detail, and waited for the last functional humans to assemble.

Steve insisted he wanted to walk and Tony decided it was best to humour him. The night had passed fitfully: one Tony would have fortified himself against with several large drinks if it hadn’t felt churlish as Steve couldn’t get drunk no matter how much he wanted to. The morning, awoken by Steve’s tears, had been possibly worse. They passed the ruin of the Chrysler, not properly cleared, and heard the noise of a small child playing. Steve stopped, clambered over a few fallen supports and saw a boy in the dust. He looked up.

“You’re Captain America! I’ve seen you on the TV with Mommy and Daddy! I own all your playing cards!”

“Hey, kid, where are your parents? What are you doing, playing in the dirt like that? Get away from there, it’s dangerous!”

“You’re Captain America! I own all your playing cards!” cried the boy, and happily returned to his play.

Steve scrambled down the rubble, picked up the small child gingerly and carried him back to the edge of the ruin.

“Listen to me, go home to your Mommy and Daddy. It’s not safe here.”

“You’re Captain America!” he said and ran back into the ruin. Steve made to follow him, but Tony pulled him back.

“You can’t help him, Steve. We’ve got to get on to the meeting.”

They arrived without further incident, and filed into the room with everyone else. It was filled almost to bursting with superheroes, sidekicks, companions and one or two sheepish ex-villains. Reed Richards cleared his throat. Silence fell instantly across the assembled crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what I have to say is not easy to comprehend. Nor can it be sugar coated. Our world is a fantasy. We are fictional characters.”

There was instant hubbub. Steve and Tony looked across at each other, horrified. Voices everywhere were determined, stridently, to deny it. Richards tried to continue speaking, but couldn’t be heard over the din. It took Nick Fury four minutes to reduce the noise to a manageable level.

“People, people! Doctor Richards is going to explain everything, if you all will just shut the hell up!”

“Everyone, everyone! Please calm down. I know it’s a difficult thing to accept at first, but once one realises the ramifications of the effects on our free will alone, it’s really quite liberating…” Sue Storm nudged him firmly, prompting him to break off, and start again “Ahem. Well, I’ll start with the mysterious affliction. All the people affected are so-called  ‘minor characters’- I’ve graded them on a scale of C-F- uh, it’s just on this chart-” Richards unveiled a chart displaying these in a pyramidal arrangement. There was a break in the scale, with a smaller pyramid labelled A and B free-floating above the trapezium “-right, so as you can see, those people we, the inhabitants of this room, never directly interacted with, they’re at the bottom. They were the first to revert back to their form as background scene fillers. Next, essential service people who are basically interchangeable, cops, fire, rescue and so on. Then, minor named characters. These are all based on templates, which is why they’ve lost their individuality. At the top, are the major characters, the most important, ‘protagonists’ and the ‘major characters’. That’s us, and our immediate associates.”

“Doctor Richards, why is this happening?” The voice was clear as a bell, though the speaker could not be identified.

“Well, ah, it’s quite simple. The plot is unravelling.”

It was another few minutes before he could continue.

“This, ah, also explains why the post-fight clean ups were taking so long and why the casualties were so arduous. Our world is becoming more realistic, and thus, is suffering. Now, there are some things we can look out for in ourselves that can help track this process. If anyone has any catchphrases or commonly expressed sentiments, they should try to keep track of how often they say them, and whether they can remember what they originally meant, ah, yes, a question?”

“Would ‘Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman’ count?” Spiderman, still masked but sounding very young indeed, had his hand raised directly in the air.

“Yes, actually, that is an excellent example.”

Natasha looked across at Clint,

“That one time in Budapest?” she whispered. He looked back, and shook his head.

“No, I remember it.”

“As I was saying,” continued Richards, “we can also look for out-of-character behaviour among ourselves or personality changes. Any real deviation from normal behaviour patterns,  really, which will be hard to spot, as we’re facing an unprecedented danger. As we’re not based on templates, we shouldn’t revert for any basic behaviour, but bits of our past may well disappear. This may well be the “free-est” our wills will ever be.”

Tony allowed his hand to settle on Steve’s, even as he felt Richards’ words sink deep into his stomach.

“Doctor Richards, why is this happening now?” asked Natasha.

“I think there must be something upsetting the balance of our story. Something altering the narrative which is causing the plot to unravel. If we don’t stop it, our entire world, and ourselves with it could dissolve.”

The noise raised this time was ungovernable. If Richards wished to say anything else, no-one could hear him. People turned to each other, frantic, wanting reassurance, finding none. Others hurried towards the exits, typing into mobiles, trying to call loved ones.

Tony felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It recalled him to himself, and he snatched his hand away from Steve. Steve was also reaching for his phone.

“Nick Fury’s called an Avengers briefing,” he said shortly, all business. Tony nodded, and they began to shoulder their way through the crowds towards an exit.

* * *

 

In a much smaller room, the Avengers gathered with Reed Richards, Sue Storm and Nick Fury. 

“Doctor Richards, what can we do to fix this?” asked Fury, getting straight to the point.

“Well, we need to remove the outside influence, whatever it is. But, as for what it is, I have no idea,” said Richards.

“Is it a person, an idea, an artefact?” suggested Tony, thinking aloud.

“Oh, it could be anything. It has to be interacting with our world; in some way, to be changing the plot. So I’d guess it was powerful. Maybe an idea could have caused all this, but it would need a vector."

“If we were able to find the influence, would you be able to remove it?” said Fury.

“Yes, I think so. I’d have to build a portal, and then we’d have to send the influence through. If it’s an object that might not be too difficult, but with a person we’d be looking at a fight."

Steve had remained silent throughout the last few minutes, but now he spoke.

“So, _if_ we can find this thing, and _if_ we can get it through the portal, then everything will go back to normal?”

“Yes, theoretically. For most people, it should be as if it never happened.”

Steve didn’t look quite as thrilled as he might.

“Will those people who died be alive again?”

“No, but they’ll be replaced with other fillers. It’ll be as if they never lived.”

“So where do we look for this influence?” said Bruce, looking pensive.

“If it’s affecting the plot, presumably it’s either affecting us or Loki,” said Natasha.

“If Loki’s still operating. What if he’s an automaton?” said Clint.

“We’re working on the assumption that the terrorist threat that is Loki is still alive and well,” said Fury. “So, we need to track him down, find whatever the hell is causing this and get it the hell out of this world.”

“Is there a time-frame?” said Tony. “I mean, how long before the end of the world?”

“Judging by current rates of decay, I’d say we have three weeks to a month. But that could change if the plot is further destabilised. It’ll take me about a week to make a portal, give or take. A little more if we need it to be, ah, portable.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” boomed Thor. “Let us go out there, find this thing and destroy it!”

“Indeed. Thor, you, Captain Rogers and Stark will be at the head of the Loki-hunting division. Doctor Banner, you’ll provide whatever assistance Doctor Richards needs, until Loki is located, at which point, we’ll need the Hulk’s assistance. Agents Barton, Romanov, I’d like to speak to you separately. Everyone else is dismissed.” Fury called an end to the meeting and gestured the rest of them to leave.

“Alright, there’s something serious we need to talk about,” said Fury, his voice taking on a softer tone.  “I think it’s important that we understand something. We three are going to be next. We don’t have fancy suits or superhuman powers. I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going to happen. So look out for each other, and try to keep an eye on this stuff, okay? Now, I’m sending you two to the SHIELD archives. Your job is to try to find something powerful enough that we can use it to fight the influence if it’s a sentient being. Okay, on your way.”

* * *

 

The Avengers Mansion became the headquarters of the Loki division, as they began calling themselves. An entire wing was given over to those computer experts SHIELD still had active, headed by Tony. It was a comfort to be surrounded by others who remained normal. Tony ran programs plotting and analysing the data from the internet providers, looking for any irregularities. Steve and Thor were on permanent standby, heading out to investigate anything thrown up by the computers. Tension was high and everyone felt fraught. Bruce returned with updates on Richards’ progress every evening, but that, too, was slow going. 

Natasha and Clint worked in the deep underground of the SHIELD archives. They battled dusty books, floppy discs and hard drives. So far, they too had found nothing.

After Richard’s revelations, Steve felt different somehow. Was he still a murderer, if the woman he killed had never existed? He prodded his feelings and was dismayed to find that he already felt less guilty.

And there was something else that had been made plain. He was attracted, no doubt about it, to members of his own sex. Had he always known? He wasn’t sure. Couldn’t really remember a time he wasn’t mourning Peggy and so unable to consider another. Either way, it had not seemed important before. But if what Richards had said was true, if this new world exposed their true selves, he had better accept it. If not, if he merely imagined it, it would be gone with Loki’s destruction.  

* * *

 

Things had not gone quite as Loki had planned- it was difficult to terrorise people into submission if they couldn’t remember you for more than ten minutes- but he could adapt. He was good at adapting. The Avengers were still active, and he could get to them through Thor.

* * *

 

One week later, Tony detected an anomaly over Iceland, and sent Thor to investigate. Previously, they might have sent both he and Steve, but they’d had dozens of pings that day alone, most simply ghosts in the data, and they couldn’t spare two heroes on one job. As they watched Thor rocket off into the distance, Steve turned to Tony. He’d been building up to this conversation for days. Tony was perhaps his anchor: very much of the modern world though linked to his past via Howard; eager to share his love of modern technology but never treating Steve like a test subject. For Tony, there was no deference, no stigma in his being Captain America. If this was his only chance, Steve could love a man like that. 

“Can you spare me a moment? I need to have a talk with you,” he said.

“Sure.” Tony looked tired, inquisitive. He obviously hadn’t shaved for days, slept only a little more recently. He looked perfect.

“Alright, look, this is, I’m just gonna come out and say it, okay? I like you,” said Steve, words tumbling out in a rush. As the silence stretched, he felt compelled to clarify: “I mean, I really like you. In a sexual way.”

There was a beat, a moment on the roof when Steve thought this had been a horrible, horrible mistake. Then Tony seized him and kissed him square on the mouth. Eyes closed, Steve mapped the contours of Tony’s jaw and neck, savouring the feel of Tony’s fingers threading through his hair. It was bliss.

Tony stepped back. Steve shivered, and told himself it was the cold air rushing into the space where Tony had been.

“Ah, Steve, are you absolutely sure this is what you want?” said Tony, eyes fixed on his. “I mean, we’ve all been under a lot of pressure lately, and you heard what Richards said about our personalities changing-”

Steve reached for him again, pulling him close.

“I did. And I heard what Richards said about free will too. “This is probably the free-est we’ll ever be”.  And if this is all the free will I’m going to get, I’m gonna make damn sure to take advantage of it.”

They grappled, all hands and mouths and desperation. Steve slipped his hands beneath Tony’s t shirt.

“Gah, alright. Inside, now,” commanded Tony. “We can spare a few hours.”

* * *

 

Thor alighted on a glacier and looked around him. This was where Stark had instructed him to be. Wind whistled across the ice sheet, bitterly cold.   

“Brother,” said a voice from behind him. There had definitely not been someone there before.

“Loki!” cried Thor, leaping at him. “Loki, the world is unravelling! You have to help us!”

“Have? _Have!_ I have to do no such thing! I came here to offer you the hand of friendship, in recognition of our childhood together. I was going to allow you to escape the worst of our wrath, but now I see he was right all along! You want nothing but to saddle me with obligations. I won’t stand for it now, Thor! He has made me far more powerful than you can possibly imagine, and now we are going to destroy you!” As Thor reached for him again, Loki vanished in a wisp of smoke.

Thor looked down at his tracking device, activated during Loki’s rant, and put a radio call into SHIELD.

“Are you getting a signal?”


	6. Chapter 6

“I think I’ve found something!”

“What?” Natasha left her book and bounded over to Clint’s desk.

“There’s a thing called an Evil Eye of Avalon that apparently can produce “concussive blasts of energy”,” he read, “oh, but it was destroyed.”

Nat sighed. There’d been tens of incidents like this, but none had been fruitful. SHIELD had kept a few minor weapons, notably Loki’s staff from his earliest invasion, but most of the truly powerful artefacts had been lost or were kept in Asgard where they were out of reach. She slumped her shoulders and allowed her forehead to rest on the top of Clint’s head. She was worried about how much longer she and Clint would be able to carry on. Richards had said a month, but he was powered. For people like herself and Clint, time was probably much more limited. Would she know when it happened to her? Or would she have to watch Clint lose himself first?  She wished she could fight someone, take on an army, do _something_ , rather than all this waiting and researching. Fury had made it clear enough that she was a liability, that all non-powered heroes were worth less. She wondered why she had never noticed before.

“Alright. Good spot. Let’s keep working.”

* * *

 

Fury called his daily meeting, one and a half weeks after Richard’s original revelations. The final few SHIELD agents had succumbed but luckily continued to report any problems they noticed, so Tony was not completely on his own in the computer wing. 

“Alright people, let’s have progress reports. Richards?”

“Well, I’m pleased to say the portal’s finished, and I’ve made it just about portable, if Thor or the Captain carries it, so we should be able to take it to Loki.”

“Good. Stark, Thor, how’s our tracking device? Still undetected?”

“Yup, seems to be.”

“My brother’s pride is his weakness. He couldn’t allow himself to believe that I had outsmarted him, so it won’t occur to him to check.”

“Good. Barton, Romanov any news on the artefacts?”

“Yes, actually,” said Nat, the first unexpected comment of the whole meeting. “There’s an artefact called the Infinity Gauntlet. It’s powered by a series of orbs of power- sometimes called gems- and allows the wearer enormous power over the universe. Surely that would work?”

“But the gauntlet has long been incomplete! After my brother tricked us with the Rhythm Gem, and Thanos was defeated the gems were scattered. Only two are held in Asgard, and the locations of the others I could not speak to,” said Thor, shaking his head. “I am sorry, but we will not be able to gather them all in time.”

“Uh, actually, I have one in the labs,” said Tony sheepishly. “The space one, but I’ve never been able to get it to work.”

“And I was entrusted with one,” said Steve. “It was orange?”

“The Space and Time Gems!” boomed Thor. “Why, those alone would give the wearer untold power! Why was Asgard not informed of their locations on Midgard?”

“Probably because you already had two,” said Fury. “Wouldn’t want that brother of yours getting his hands on four of them, would we?”

“… I suppose not.”

“Natasha, would four gems be enough?”

“I think so. The stories certainly imply the wearer would have great power if they could combine any of the gems. All six would grant omniscience, omnipotence and omnipresence. I don’t think that kind of power is a good idea, even for one of us.”

“Alright. Richards, do you think it’ll work?”

“Well, what better way to destroy a universe-altering power than with another universe-altering power?” laughed Richards. “And since the Gauntlet is part of this universe, it stands to reason that it would work in our favour.”

“Then we’re decided. Cap, Stark, you need to bring yours to Richard’s lab. Thor, we’ll send you back to Asgard to collect the other two. Richards, you’ll be able to forge them together somehow?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Richards said easily, leaning back in his chair.

“It will be but the work of a few hours!” said Thor, “In fact, if this meeting is over, I’ll go now!”

Fury nodded an assent, and gestured for them to leave.

Thor marched straight out of the building, raised his hammer to the sky and vanished in a rush of light, smoke and noise.

* * *

 

In Asgard, everything was much the same as it ever was. Heimdall nodded a stony welcome to him, and he set off along the rainbow bridge with renewed enthusiasm. He knew that his homeworld would be fine. He’d always known.  Inside the palace he came across the Warriors Three feasting and as one they rose to greet him. 

“Thor!”

“Brothers!”

They embraced fiercely, and Thor laughed his deep booming laugh.

“Come, feast with us!” said Volstagg, gesturing to a table groaning with food. He seized a drumstick and waved it, “It is as fierce a battle as any we have faced!” he cried, mock serious before dissolving into childish giggles.

“Friends, companions. I am here on a deadly mission to save Midgard and possibly the universe. I am afraid I cannot stay for dinner. But please, accompany me to the vaults. I have an artefact to collect.”

There was a pause while he waited for a response. It was slightly too long in coming, accompanied by blank looks, then Fandral said:

“Thor! You have returned to us! Come, feast!”

“As I explained,” chuckled Thor, tickled by their enthusiasm, “I do not have the time. But, please, come with me!”

Again, there was a pause, then Hogun said:

“Feast with us!”

Thor felt an icy sinking feeling settle into the pit of his stomach. They were… like the rest.

“Oh. No, that is, I will go alone. Thank you, my friends, and I will see you soon, no matter the outcome of this fight. We will be together again, here or in Valhalla!”

He backed slowly out of the room, pursued by their puzzled faces, then turned and fled down the corridor, haunted by their summons to dinner. His way was unobstructed. Guards nodded to him but when he offered conversation each one merely saluted. The vaults were deep beneath the palace, down hundreds of spiralling steps and along yards and yards of underground corridors. The air was cool and dry, the breath of the guards doing nothing to dampen the air even though there was no ventilation. It was all very slightly off, enough to be unsettling. He told himself he was being childish and tried hard not to think of the blank looks on the faces of his friends as they reset.

He collected the gems without incident, though each one glowed as he picked it up. If there was a surge of power he didn’t notice it, far too preoccupied with the plight of his friends. He would do everything in his power to save them.

* * *

 

The Loki Division gathered together for one last time. Fury paced into the room, characteristically slightly late, his coat flapping impressively even though the air conditioning wasn’t running.  

“Alright everyone!” he barked. “We’re gonna get this sucker! We’re gonna make him sorry he ever came here to mess with my planet!”

There was silence as everyone waited for him to start the meeting.

“What’s the plan?” he demanded. “How are we gonna make him regret ever coming to this universe?”

“Well, I have managed to construct a rudimentary glove, which should serve our function,” said Richards.

“I don’t care about no stinking glove!” declared Fury.

Natasha looked at him, observing the fierce expression and the way it was interrupted by blank seconds.

“Oh. Everyone, I think Fury might not be of so much help to us from now on,” she said with customary understatement. It wouldn’t be long now for her. “Perhaps someone else should run the meeting.”

Most of the heads in the room swivelled round to look at Steve. He felt time slow. He was tempted. Sorely, sorely tempted. He looked at Tony, wished he hadn’t, and glanced round at the other hopeful faces of the Avengers, and at poor Nick Fury, fierce and blank by turns. He could scupper their rescue attempt. He could destroy the world, but he’d have another week of Tony. This was the happiest he’d ever been and yet his clear duty was to throw it away. He would do it but this was the first time his duty had been actively painful.

“Alright everyone. We’ll start out after Loki first thing in the morning. Here’s how it’s all going to work.”

* * *

 

Hours later, in the quiet of the night, Nat heard a knock on her door. Slipping out of bed, she answered it, and found a tearful Clint standing on the threshold. 

“Nat, can I come in?”

“Of course, sit down.”

“Nat, I’ve forgotten Budapest,” he said in a horrified whisper. This was it. Clint was her oldest friend, sometimes her only friend in the whole world, and now he was vanishing before her eyes.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. “Will you tell me about it?” he said desperately. She wanted to, but shook her head.  Clint would forget again, would lose that part of himself in front of her. She couldn’t bear it.

“Don’t do that to yourself, Clint. It’s no good distressing yourself about something you can’t remember. Just, stay. We’ll destroy whoever this influence is, and we’ll send everything back to normal tomorrow.”

Unresisting, he allowed her to pull him down into her arms. She carded her fingers through his hair, making gently soothing noises. He tried to protest but she shushed him. She did not believe in a pervasive consciousness; she was the sum of her experiences. Losing part of their shared history, she lost some of herself. Fitfully, she slept.

* * *

 

“Steve?” whispered Tony. Steve made a gentle grumbling noise and rolled his shoulders, flexing his body against Tony’s. 

“Yes?”

“You know, tomorrow, things will have to go back to how they were?”

There was a silence. Tony feared Steve had gone back to sleep. He dreaded having to say it again.

“I know,” said Steve at last. His voice was small, resigned. Tony pressed his nose into Steve’s neck. “But we’re going to save the world.” He tried to burrow deeper into Tony’s arms. “It’ll be worth it. Won’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Tony sadly. “We better hope it will.”

“Tony? I was so tempted. I felt like maybe the end of the world was a decent trade-off for this. For us.”

In response, Tony gently rolled him onto his back, kissed him and allowed his hand to trace intricate patterns across Steve’s stomach.

“Hush,” he said. “I know."

* * *

 

Steve led the Avengers across the ice sheet. They trekked slowly towards the mountains at its edge, following the tracker that sent its readings to Tony’s Iron Man suit. He felt exposed and uneasy. He’d arranged them loosely in a defensive square around Reed Richards and Natasha, who were carrying the equipment they needed most. Hawkeye was on point, but so far he’d spotted exactly nothing. This, too, was strange. Steve had expected Loki to swoop down on then the second they alighted from the SHIELD personnel carrier but all that had met them was an eerie emptiness. He wondered, wildly, if Loki had hunted away all the polar bears. 

Was it possible that Loki didn’t have warning systems? Surely it was much more likely that he knew exactly where they were, and was merely watching them? Mocking them? He shook his head to clear it. Thinking through possible scenarios was sensible, second guessing himself was not.

“Tony, any evidence for movement or changes in location? Does your infrared see anything?” he said, whispering over the comms.

“Nothing so far, just into those mountains. Could it be an ambush?”

“It could be. Keep your eyes peeled, everyone.”

In total they spent three hours creeping across the ice. He was extremely glad he’d made the human members of the team dress appropriately. The mountains seemed to rise directly up out of the ice, dark and looming. It was, Steve had to admit, pretty fitting for a battle to save the universe. He glanced over at the team: Iron Man and Thor were obviously fine and Thor was positively cheery. Hawkeye and Black Widow looked a little fatigued, but they were professionals. Reed was bundled up in so many layers he looked a little like a penguin, but he too seemed fine. Bruce Banner was a little more concerning. He’d started shivering a mile or so ago but he wouldn’t take anyone else’s protective gear and Steve was sure he’d refuse to be carried if he got any worse. On the other hand, Hulk would probably behave as though ice were his new favourite toy.

“We’re not far now,” said Tony. “I figure we’re only a few hundred yards away, but he seems to be _inside_ the mountain. Perhaps in an ice cave?”

“Alright. You do a quick circuit, see if you can spot an entrance from the air, or at least give us a better triangulation of his location. You radio in and get back here stat if you run into any trouble, understood?”

Iron Man’s faceplate was impassive as usual, but Steve imagined Tony’s softening grin as if to say “who- me?” as he replied.

“Roger that, Cap.”

An entrance was located. Iron Man carried several of them up to the ledge while Steve and Thor scaled the cliff of ice and rock.

“How come there’s still no sign of hostilities?” hissed Richards, instantly shushed by the others. They were far too close even for radio contact.  Steve crept first down into the tunnel, Iron Man and Hawkeye at his back. The corridor was lit by torches that burned with a cold mage fire. The flickering light was distracting, but there was nothing living. He found himself in the mouth of an ice cavern, with intricately carved ice sculptures on the ceiling, woven wall hangings and a deep red-purple carpet covering every inch of the floor. He stepped onto it, scattering ice particles like snow on blood. Suddenly the air was filled with an unearthly, ghostly wailing.

Four apparitions instantly appeared, declaiming in four languages that the violator of this shrine would be destroyed in several particularly imaginative ways. The apparitions all took the form of a man, slightly taller than average and slightly slimmer. His clothing looked like he’d stepped straight out of a Renaissance faire. His face was lit by a harsh snarl, exaggerated by dark circles beneath his eyes.

Steve looked around the room, searching for any sign of hostilities when Loki materialised three feet from him, punched him square in the jaw.

“Avengers, assemble!” shouted Steve, shaking his head to clear the ringing and throwing himself at Loki. Loki was small enough one could forget he was a god- until he punched you. Loki vanished and Steve crashed into the carpet, feeling it burn the exposed lower part of his face.

Several things happened at once. Hulk roared past him and tried unsuccessfully to eat one of the apparitions. A fifth version of the man appeared so quickly he must have teleported. Loki flew at Thor, slashing at his face with a short golden dagger. Black Widow and Hawkeye hustled Richards into the mouth of a different corridor, and stood guard while he began to set up the portal. He’d finessed the process, but it would still take twenty minutes to fire up with Natasha’s aid.

“Loki!” boomed Thor. “This is the cause of all the wrongs in the world! Side with us and we can defeat him! We can put everything back the way it was!”

“The way it was? The way you were always the favoured son, the way I always came in second? Never!”

Hawkeye loosed an arrow at Loki. He snatched it from the air, barely looking.

“You have all fallen into my trap and now you will pay for the times you’ve humiliated me!”

The stranger backhanded Steve across his face, knocking him flying. He crashed into an ice wall, smashing through into the chamber behind. He had a second to take it in: a tall wooden bed, piled high with furs; elaborate wall hangings; and a huge bronze vessel, large enough for Natasha to have stood in, before the stranger stood over him. He was lifted bodily and thrown back into the cavern. He crashed into Iron Man, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Blood ran from his nose, half-choking him.

“Who the fuck even are you?” said Tony, springing forward again, repulsor gauntlets raised. He blasted at the stranger.

“I am Loptr and I will destroy you!” he snarled. To avoid the blasts he ran up the side of the wall, impossibly defying gravity, sprinting easily out of the way. Tony shot forwards, tackling himself headlong into Loptr. They flew around the enclosed space, striking at each other, narrowly missing Richards as he worked.  Hulk grasped after them like a demanding child.

Loki and Thor grappled, each damningly familiar with the other’s fighting style, neither able to gain a real advantage. Intermittently, Hawkeye fired at them trying to distract Loki. The last Loki dodged easily, vanished and reappeared behind Thor. He stabbed downwards. The daggers sank up to the hilts, firmly planted into Thor’s broad back. Thor gasped and staggered.

“Loki?” he asked, bewildered.  Loki sneered down at him, revelling in his moment of triumph.

“Just another few minutes!” called Richards. Already, the fight had seemed to have been going on for hours.

Tony threw Loptr into the floor, stunning him. Steve sprang on him, landing blow after blow, blood flying. Loptr grinned manically. He flickered then changed form completely.  He was tall, short, young, old, a giant, a dwarf all faster than the eye could follow. He fixed as a beautiful woman who smiled lasciviously at him blonde and buxom. Steve froze for a second, unnerved, long enough for Loptr to turn the tables, punching him with enough power to dent the wall.

Hulk seized Loki and swung him into the wall, then the floor. Using him like a bat, he knocked Loptr off his feet and slammed Loki into the ground. In the seconds before he recovered Hawkeye was standing over him, arrow nocked and less than three inches from his left eye.

“Think you can teleport before I pin you skull to the floor?” said Clint, menacingly.

“It’s done! We’re ready!” called Richards. The portal flickered into life. The space in the room seemed to warp and shift as they moved. Steve felt immediately nauseous. Through the space could be seen an outside ice shelf, empty. Unremarkable. 

Tony flew at Loptr, firing blasts from his gauntlet. Loptr laughed and dodged, swatting him aside easily. Tony slammed into the wall and crumpled. The portal behind him shimmered and crackled. Loptr pointed at Hulk, twisting his hand up into a claw. Hulk froze and began to shrink. Banner, half-naked and vulnerable crouched in his place.

“What about you Doctor Banner? Don’t you wish your _little green problem_ could be fixed? I can give you that. I can give you anything you want.”

Bruce looked at him. Of course, the world was ending, so the offer was a moot point but- How _dare_ this stranger offer him that? Loptr had never met him and yet here he was offering what Bruce most wanted, as though it were nothing.  Bruce was angry. Really angry. He roared, charged forward, beginning to grow, to turn green. Loptr swatted him aside.

“Your attempts are pathetic!” he spat, conjuring a green ball of energy and shooting it at Steve, knocking him flying. Steve crashed into the walls, winded. He got up as fast as he could, sprinted back towards the fray. Bruce lay immobile. “I wonder it took Loki this long to defeat you, even without my help!” He caught Steve around the throat and lifted him bodily from the floor. Steve fought. His vision sparked and flashed, scenes from the ice cave mingling with clichés of a Huckleberry-Finn-like childhood and memories of Tony’s voice, Tony’s skin. Loptr too seemed to flicker, first he was Peggy then Tony.

Natasha ran out from behind some smashed ice blocks and landed a fierce kick to Loptr’s midriff. He stared at her in shock, amazed a mere mortal would dare strike him. Dropping Steve, he turned on her but before he could respond, faster than a thought, she raised the gauntlet and delivered a sharp uppercut to his jaw. He staggered. She recovered and drove the gauntlet deep into his midriff. He spun backwards. Time slowed to a crawl. Everyone stared. Loki howled from where Hawkeye pinned him. Loptr fell backwards through the portal. Richards sprang forwards and hit a switch. The picture flickered. Loptr’s face loomed through it. Thor opened his eyes, easily removing the daggers and tossing them aside. A flash of light like an old television being switched off, and Loptr was gone. Loki howled again.

“No! That was my chance! How could you Thor? Why must you always take what I have?” He flung himself at Thor and beat at him with his fists, angrily exclaiming, half sobbing. Thor tried to comfort him, but Loki knocked him back and teleported. He too was gone.

Clint ran over to Natasha.

“You did it!” he cried, “I knew you would!” He embraced her and then they were kissing, triumphant, saviours of the world.

“When did this happy arrangement occur?” asked Thor, jovial and approving.

“Just now,” said Natasha, blinking.

Bruce stirred and tried to sit up.

“Do you think we could..?” asked Tony, struggling to his feet and removing his faceplate. Steve looked at him, face a mask of blood and tears, bruises blooming on his neck.

“No. No I don’t think we can.”


	7. Epilogue

Loptr looked down at himself. He was back in Asgaard, a little dishevelled but not harmed. He laughed hearty, healthy laughter. They had won fair and square.

“Such ingenuity!” he cried. “And, Loptr, if you will let people face you in head on battle, you much accept the consequences. These are worthy opponents.” Still chuckling, he headed off to find Thór and tell him of his adventures.

* * *

 

Everything went back to normal, just as Richards had predicted. Few people remembered anything and any that did recalled only that the Avengers had saved the day, as always. Villains returned to stalk the streets of New York, as they always had, and the Avengers and other heroes were there to stop them. They were always defeated right at the last minute, before any serious damage could be done.

Black Widow and Hawkeye went public with their relationship soon after, to the delight of the press. It seemed inevitable, destined.

And if Captain America and Iron Man occasionally looked at each other too much, let touches linger a second too long between the panels, well, it didn’t matter. Nobody noticed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've stuck with me this far, thanks very much! 
> 
> (And now a boring authorial comment:) This is the first extended piece of fiction I've written, so if you have any critical feedback, just let me know!


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